


Trust issues

by Iriascend



Series: Omega Robins [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Depression, Family Bonding, Gen, Omega Tim Drake, Omega Verse, POV Tim Drake, Self-Esteem Issues, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iriascend/pseuds/Iriascend
Summary: When Tim hits a low, someone unexpected attempts to help him.---Completely SFW fluff of Damian and Tim trying to work through their issues a little. This comes directly after Territorialism, but doesn't require it to be read - there's only a brief mention of previous events that have a little more context if you've read other fics from series.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: Omega Robins [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862638
Comments: 11
Kudos: 119





	Trust issues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedCeleste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCeleste/gifts).



> I found this WIP while cleaning up my cloud storage and for the first half an hour I didn't even remember what this was about. Then I decided to wing it and finish it, in hopes of getting out of writing block. It didn't work but here's a short fic anyway, unbeta'd and fresh from my keyboard.
> 
> Gifted to RedCeleste because their comment on [Territorialism](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286608/chapters/61307095) inspired me to start this WIP in the first place.

Tim didn't trust alphas. 

Actually, no, take that back. There were plenty of alphas and alpha-like people that Tim trusted and enjoyed hanging out with. What he actually didn't trust were _Waynes_ , who also happened to both be alphas, and his omega hindbrain associated the two things. 

One Wayne wanted to outright murder him the moment he saw Tim, which was an obvious basis for mistrust (at least for him; nobody else seemed to agree on it, especially not Bruce, and that made Tim think Talia knew _exactly_ what she was doing when he chose him as the sire of her pup). The other just settled for attempting to gaslight Tim into never trusting any of his friends ever again, while also inducing a complete nervous breakdown on the side. 

So talk about trust issues.

(Was he salty? Yes. Yes he was.)

And yet, he remained in the Manor. 

And yet, he continued to work with them. 

And yet, he attempted to make peace.

It couldn't speak well of his judgment _or_ his self-respect, but it certainly spoke generously about his loyalty to the pack as an omega. 

(He would consider himself for Stockholm Syndrome diagnosis if he didn’t know the science behind it was bullshit and made out of thinly veiled victim-blaming.)

It also explained why he was very, _very_ suspicious when Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, the grandson of the most annoyingly creepy and disgusting alpha villain on the planet, started taking an interest in him _again_. It could only spell _trouble._

Tim had to know what was behind the interest and make contingencies to protect himself accordingly. 

Sure, he had taken the time to visit the kid’s art show (the result of a mix of omega instinct, appreciation of art, and knowing nobody else would show up and therefore taking pity), and they had a pretty good run lately with Damian suddenly attempting to treat him more like a member of the pack and less like a threat to it, but… it’s not like Tim could suddenly forget there was at least a couple of daggers pointed at his back at all times, waiting for his slightest mistake. 

From the Waynes, the alphas.

Like when Bruce revealed his civilian identity without his knowledge, right after telling Tim how _crucial_ it was not to do that. 

Like when Damian was Damian, at this point you didn’t have to add anything else.

And even from the non-Wayne members of the pack, too!

Like when Dick took Robin away from him without as much as a question beforehand, or a ‘sorry’ afterwards.

Like when Jason tried to kill him (and not even to prove himself, like Damian, but just to make Bruce mad, as if Tim as a person was irrelevant, instead only having meaning as a piece of Bruce’s world).

Like when Stephanie stalked him but didn’t tell him she’s alive and well when he was mourning her.

So, all in all, Tim was rather wary about his pack. Which was… the exact opposite of what you should be feeling towards your pack, wasn’t it?

(He might’ve lately been spending too much time over a cup of coffee and too little of it in front of his anti-depression lamp, too, but that was beside the point)

He rolled over and wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, muffling a scream by pushing his face into a pillow. The screaming lasted for well over a minute. A new personal record!

He’s even been trying to sleep a bit! Why is his brain like this?! Why can’t he decide between staying and leaving?! It should be easy, to know which people were good for you, and which weren’t. But it wasn’t that simple, now. It wasn’t a question of who he should keep in his life, but rather… A greater moral dilemma. What is more important, your own safety and happiness or the Greater Good? And the answer was Greater Good, always. And for that, he needed the Bats, and for that, he needed to tolerate the various ways in which they made him miserable.

Because the needs of many outweigh the needs of the few, and certainly outweigh the needs of one very replaceable and frankly bad at this whole nurturing thing omega.

The doors creaked and usually, Tim immediately would have a knife in his hand to defend himself. But for a moment, he honestly didn’t care if someone managed to infiltrate the Manor and was about to end him in one blow. He’d welcome it at this point, really. 

Damian stared at him, leaning on the doorframe, with displeasure clearly written on his face, then tsked. 

How Tim expected the conversation to go over was something like this:

“I can smell you (because Tim knew he’s probably super stinky at that point, because he hadn’t showered in three days, and also he’s been stewing in self-hate the entire time, which 100% would show in his scent) all over from my room, Drake. Get a hold of yourself.”

“I can stink up my room if I so please, this is my home too.”

“Father insists on keeping you around out of pity, but don’t think you’ve earned your right to call it your home.”

“Go fuck yourself, brat.”

(He could understand why Jason had a swear word for every occasion. Swearing made life easier when you were miserable.)

At which point Damian would’ve tsk-ed again and maybe thrown something sharp at Tim, and then he’d leave, and Tim would begrudgingly shower to get the brat off his case.

How the conversation really went was this:

“What is causing you distress?”

“What?”

Tim looked up from his half-assed ex-nest (it’s been a nest at some point earlier this week, before he lost an entire sandwich in between the blankets and kicked it apart in his restless, nightmare-filled sleep) at Damian, startled by the question.

“Judging by your general state, you’re experiencing great emotional anguish. I wish to help alleviate it, but cannot if you do not tell me what is the source of it.”

Tim just stared blankly at him, blinking slowly, attempting to process what kind of alternate universe he’s been thrown into for Damian Wayne try to _help_ him.

“Would you rather Richard or Alfred talked with you about it?”

“No, I— who are you?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, remaining silent for a moment as if he didn’t deem the question sensible enough for an answer. Finally, though, he realised Tim is completely serious and replied.

“Your pack brother, you im— ... “ Damian obviously _consciously_ stopped himself from insulting Tim. It just confused Tim more. 

“What year is it?” he asks, crawling out of the nest to look out the window, scanning the room for his laptop. “Who’s Batman?”

“This is still the same Earth-One,” Damian cut his train of thought before it really could take off. Tim whipped around to look at Damian, critically, for the first time. Inhaled deeply, trying to discern something — _anything_ — form his smell, but the room was so full of his own pheromones he could barely pick up Damian’s presence at all.

“What’s changed then? Why are you here?”

“I already told you, I want—”

“I heard you. But why? Why do you care?”

“You’re my pack.”

“Listen, I might be half-awake but even with one brain cell left I wouldn’t be dumb enough to believe that. You barely consider me a coworker.”

“I’ve had time to think about things while I was benched.”

“Great, but as my nightmares regularly remind me, you tried to kill me more than once. That’s not what you do to your _pack.”_

Damian winced and stayed silent for a moment. It threw Tim off. Was that… was that embarrassment? Some kind of regret? 

“I’m trying to change. Grow up.”

“Oh, so you suddenly want me to just ignore that you tried to murder me? Because you’ve done some soul-searching?”

“I will not deny my earlier misbehaviour,” the boy began slowly, fiddling with his fingers in a clear, unheard of before display of nervousness, “and I do not hope for you to forget it—”

“Good, because it’s not going to happen.”

“You hate me, I am aware. We can’t seem to do anything else but hate each other. Yet, even if not by choice, we are pack. I do not wish to reject this truth any longer. And I want… I want to be… to be an adequate alpha for my packmates,” Damian’s voice grows more flat and devoid of emotion the more he speaks, and Tim would give a lot to be able to smell what’s going through the boy’s mind. 

A heavy silence fell between them once Damian said that. Because what do you say to _that?_ Tim didn’t answer, too stunned to utter a word, but his face must’ve said something else, something nasty because Damian frowned. Then sighed, as if giving up. 

“I’ll ask Alfred to brew you some chamomile and I won’t bother you anymore,” he said and stepped out the door. Just before closing it fully, he stopped, and looked over his shoulder, at Tim who was still frozen in place. “I hope the demons that haunt you will stop having my face someday.”

Tim sat down, thinking. There was still a very good chance the boy was plotting something, and just trying to make Tim lower his guard. Actually, it would make perfect sense. He could absolutely play the growing up thing. He also probably knew how much Tim craved approval, craved pack bonds. He could absolutely play Tim like a fiddle in this poor state Tim was in.

But as the door closed, a whiff of _sadness-concern_ in Damian’s smell reached him with the wave of moving air. And even the little demon wasn’t capable of changing his smell to _this_ extent. There… had to be something true in what the boy said. Something honest about his olive branch.

Tim didn’t trust alphas. Didn’t trust the Waynes. He had trust issues with the entire Wayne pack. 

Even so, maybe issues can be worked on. 

**Author's Note:**

> All the nasty things Tim mentions Bats did to him? 100% canon, sadly.


End file.
